Jo Goodman (9 page)

Colin stared at her a long moment, considering. "Probably a fallen branch," he said. "You were fortunate it didn't pierce you."

"Yes, well, I'll be certain to remember that in my prayers tonight."

Her acerbic tone caught his fancy. It seemed so much at odds with her mannered airs and delicate features. "Your wit doesn't appear to be overly addled by tonight's events."

"I wasn't accosted for my wit," she said. Mercedes fell silent as Colin's eyes darkened above her. He was studying her face and she felt the graze of his interest touch her hair, her forehead, then slip along the arch of her brows. His head tilted slightly to one side as he took in the shape of her nose, her ears, and the curve of her cheek. He didn't pause on her bruised jaw but rather on her mouth. Mercedes felt her lips part slightly of their own accord as the breath she had been holding escaped.

His eyes lifted to hers and that's when she noticed his regard was not so remote this time, that there was an element of warmth in the way he was watching her now.

"Why did you really come back here?" he asked.

There was a husky timbre to his voice that startled Mercedes more than his question. "I told you," she said.

His head bent a fraction closer. "I know what you told me."

Mercedes caught her lower lip. He made it sound as if she hadn't been telling the truth—which, of course, she hadn't—but not in the way he seemed to be thinking. "Then you should listen to me."

Colin shook his head. "Not bloody likely."

She did not duck the kiss. Mercedes wasn't certain it was going to happen until his mouth was on hers. Even at the very last moment she thought she was merely calling his bluff. It was only in retrospect that she understood Colin Thorne didn't bluff.

It was not her first kiss. Others had been stolen, a few given freely. She had even experienced one lying down. But this one was different and it was her ability to compare it to the others that made her sure of it. For once, Mercedes did not regret them.

Colin's lips were warm and dry. The first touch was tentative, as if he expected her to shy away. When she didn't, the pressure increased, the shape of his mouth on hers became firmer. The edge of his tongue parted her lips.

A slip of pure sensation shuddered through Mercedes. At her side, where Colin still held her wrists, her fingers slowly uncurled. She closed her eyes.

He traced a damp line along the underside of her lip. His teeth nipped her gently. Beneath him, Colin felt her body stir even as she relaxed. His hands loosened on her wrists so that it was the weight of his palms, more than his grip, that was securing her.

He pressed the kiss more deeply and she gave him entry. It was only a matter of time before this thing that was being done
to
her was being done
with
her.

Mercedes felt herself being drawn into the kiss. Her tongue swept his. She touched the slightly uneven ridge of his teeth. Somehow the pressure of her mouth pulled him closer. His hip that had rested beside hers now touched her more intimately. He hovered over her, separated by only a small space of air. When pleasure made her arch restlessly, her breasts grazed his chest.

He swallowed the puff of air that was her gasp. His mouth slanted across hers a second time, insistent now, driving. Colin was stretched out beside her. His bent knee pushed intimately between her legs. Her own knee rose and her calf rubbed his leg.

Her heels dug into the mattress to give her purchase as she raised herself against him.

Colin's mouth slipped from hers. He touched her cheek, her chin, the base of her throat. He sipped her skin, tugged with his teeth. His hands finally left her wrists and slid along the length of her arms. The skin at the underside of her elbows was as soft as a newborn's.

Freed, Mercedes's hands lifted. Her fingers dipped into the hair at his nape and sifted threads of butter yellow and gold. Her nails lightly scraped the back of his neck. At her fingertips she felt the shudder that ran under his skin and down his spine.

The pads of Colin's fingers were rough, his palms slightly calloused. His touch on her bare shoulder and arm was gently abrasive. He dragged his fingertips along the inside of her arm and past her breast. Mercedes sighed sweetly when his mouth closed over hers again.

She pushed at his shoulders once and Colin seemed to understand what she wanted, obligingly rolling on his side, then his back, taking her with him until she was lying fully on top of him. Mercedes trapped his wrists at the level of his shoulders. There was no force behind it. Colin was very much a willing captive and there was no resistance as she kissed him deeply.

She raised herself slowly, her gray eyes vaguely unfocused, and drew her hands along his arms until her palms were flat on his chest. Her petticoats fanned out below her waist like the sun's corona and beneath them she straddled his hips with her thighs.

His hands came up to cup her waist and practically enfolded her. He watched her raise her head. Her upper body stretched in a sensuous arc, exposing the length of her throat and thrusting her breasts forward. Her slim hands rose gracefully to her neck and she traced the defined line of her collarbones with her fingertips. A siren's smile held his full attention.

Her thick braid fell across her shoulder and behind her back. The tip of it brushed his fingers. He caught the tail of it in the same moment Mercedes tore her dagger free.

She stabbed futilely at the air as Colin wrapped her braid around his fist and jerked her away. Mercedes fought back, pushing herself sideways to strike her target. The tip of the blade caught his shoulder and split his shirt. A thin streak of blood followed in its wake.

Colin yanked harder on her hair. His tug toppled her and she was slammed against the mattress, precariously close to the edge of the bed. She had a vision of herself falling off, Colin still tightly holding her hair while she screamed in agony at being scalped. The fleeting thought of that kind of pain was enough to make her quiet.

Having no reason to trust her sudden stillness, especially while she was armed, Colin brought down the side of his hand in a swift chopping motion. It fell across the narrow bones of her wrist like a cleaver. Mercedes's hand opened convulsively and the dagger slipped out. Colin grabbed it and flung it across the room. It clattered across the dresser top and came to rest very near his own.

There was a short silence, punctuated only by their harsh breathing. Then Colin released Mercedes's hair and shoved, sending her tumbling out of bed and onto the floor. She came down hard on her bruised hip. The jarring rush of pain brought tears to her eyes. She cried out, curling into a ball to protect herself from another blow. When it didn't come she remained there without moving and bit her lower lip to keep from whimpering out loud.

Colin rose from the bed on the opposite side and shrugged out of his torn shirt. He yanked the petticoat he had repaired off the chair and tore at the flounce. It came away easily in his hands. He dipped it into the tub, wrung it out, then used it to wipe away the blood on his chest. The scratch was mostly superficial. There was a deeper puncture at his shoulder where she had first made contact, and Colin let it bleed freely for a few minutes to reduce the chance of infection. Finally he wadded a piece of the wet bandage and placed it squarely against the wound until the bleeding stopped.

Colin came around the side of the bed. His upper lip curled in disgust. Mercedes was still lying on her side. He kicked at her feet, not hard, just enough to rouse a response. There was none. Hunkering down, Colin placed his palm on her hip and gave her a nudge. She didn't stir.

Mercedes had fainted.

It didn't move him to gentleness. Colin plucked the tumbler off the nightstand, dipped it in the tub water, and tossed it in her face.

She sputtered, coughed. Mercedes opened her eyes and water ran between her lashes. Sitting up, momentarily panicked, she swiped at her face with her hands and gasped for breath.

"It's only water," he said. "You're not blinded."

Mercedes lifted a corner of one of her petticoats and wiped her eyes and cheeks. When her vision had cleared she didn't look at him, but stared down at her hands instead.

"I hope you're working on an explanation," he said. "I'm not interested in any lies."

"There's nothing to explain," she said dully. Her head ached. Just behind her temples there was a steady throb that made her ears roar. Colin's voice came to her as if distorted by water or wind.

"I beg to differ."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Colin reacted swiftly, taking the empty chamber pot from below the nightstand and shoving it into her hands. Mercedes retched immediately. Spasms gripped her body and she clutched the pot to steady herself. Colin pushed her back against the bed frame so she could lean against it. The bed shuddered under the force of her retching. She held the pot until she had been made helpless by the experience. It began to slip out of her hands. Colin caught it and held it for her. His other hand went to the back of her neck where he kept her braid from falling forward.

In the end her feeble cough signaled she was done. Colin put the chamber pot outside the door. He filled up the tumbler again, this time with fresh water and a touch of whisky, and told her to rinse out her mouth.

"Rinse," he repeated when she swallowed the first mouthful. "The last thing you need right now is a fire in your belly."

She nodded weakly and did as she was told. She spit into a second tumbler then repeated the process twice more before he was satisfied. Mercedes rested her head against the mattress while Colin stepped into the hallway and emptied the tumblers into the pot. When he came back, her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly.

"Let's put you back in bed," he said.

That brought her head around and opened her eyes, but there was no protest. She allowed herself to be hauled to her feet and laid back on the bed. A pillow was stuffed under her head. She never mistook his attention for kindness. If he seemed to be solicitous now it was because he wanted something in exchange.

Mercedes closed her eyes as Colin washed her face with a damp cloth. When he tossed it aside, she knew her respite was over.

"Look at me," he said. His voice brooked no refusal.

She looked.

"I'm waiting."

"I think I should go now," she said feebly.

He raised one brow. The planes and angles of his face were taut and there was no humor in the edge of the dark smile that touched his mouth. "You're going to have to talk to me first."

"What do you want to know?"

"Did you have that dagger with you the first time you came here?" he asked.

She nodded again.

"But you didn't use it."

"See? You don't need me to answer questions. You can work it out all by yourself."

Colin got up from the bed and went to the dresser. He looked at both daggers, testing hers for its feel in his hand before choosing his own. Mercedes was sitting up by the time he returned to her side.

"What are you going to do with that?" she asked, eyeing him warily.

"This." Colin's knife cut through her corset like butter.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting," he said. "For answers. Don't make me wait too long, Miss Leyden. You don't have that many ribbons on your camisole."

"You can't just—"

He flicked the tip of the dagger once and severed the uppermost ribbon.

Mercedes's hands flew up to hold the material together. "Ask me another question," she said.

"Good," he said approvingly. "You're getting the idea. Now, why didn't you use the knife the first time?"

"I thought I could talk you out of it." Mercedes wasn't watching Colin's face. Her eyes were centered on the point of his dagger. It appeared to be wavering slightly as he moved it closer. "You know," she said quickly. "Talk you out of killing the earl." The dagger stayed where it was. "It seemed possible at first, then you told me things I hadn't known and it confused me. I didn't know what to think."

"So you left."

"That's right."

"But you came back."

"I told you why."

Colin had no difficulty slicing another ribbon. He poked the point of the dagger in between Mercedes's splayed fingers and flicked. No other prompting on his part was necessary.

Mercedes pressed herself back against the headboard. "I was attacked," she said hurriedly. "On my way home."

"Get your hands out of the way."

"No."

"I'll cut you."

Afraid he meant it, Mercedes spread her fingers a fraction. The dagger darted in and did its work. She really had to grip the camisole now. The material was loosened by the cuts and Mercedes knew she was in danger of spilling out of it. She tried to draw her knees up but Colin forced her legs down.

Colin watched fear crystallize in her clear gray eyes. He did nothing to alleviate it. "The truth, Mercedes. There was no attack between here and Weybourne Park."

Her face paled. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Why are you so desperate to make me?"